


the best things (happen while you're dancing)

by friendly_ficus



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, Gen, War, based on a what-if thought i had during the stream, but ALSO spoilers for episode 97, listen... LISTEN... jester is so capable just let her do her thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendly_ficus/pseuds/friendly_ficus
Summary: things that you would not do at home come naturally on the floorDances from a party that did not happen.(Or: Sparkling wine, unspoken words, the currents of power.)
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre & Ludinus Da'leth, potential Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82





	the best things (happen while you're dancing)

**Author's Note:**

> dancing is romantic but in this case it's more about controlling the space and the movement, at least in the beginning. i just think we need to give jester a lot more credit than she usually gets.

Jester smiles as she and Lord Thane glide easily through the next turn, a complicated flurry of claps and stomps neatly avoided. They are bending the rules of the dance a little, but it is forgiven as soon as they transgress. It’s Nicodranas, after all; if the Marquis took offence at something so simple as a dance, no one would ever get any  _ real  _ business done.

_ Jester, what are you  _ **_doing,_ ** Caleb whispers in her ear. She catches a glimpse of him silhouetted by one of the darkening windows, a glass of something bubbly in one hand and a copper wire hidden in the other.

She smiles like her mother would, gentle, coaxing. "Are you enjoying the dance?" she asks.

His hand shaking faintly where she's trapped it in hers, Essek manages a strangled "Of course."

(It had been easy, to get him away from the alcove he’d been hiding in. All she’d had to do was duck behind the curtain, eyes a little extra wide, twisting her hands in a way that she knows looks nervous. She’d jumped a little in surprise at seeing him there, like they didn’t have at least one person watching him at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” Jester had said, wringing her hands again. “I’m trying to avoid someone here who, ah, wants to kill me.”

Even in disguise, his nervousness clear on his face, something had sharpened in Essek’s eyes at that. “Do you... require assistance?”

“Oh, no, I just need to stay away from him. Maybe if I do something somewhere else...” she’d trailed off, letting an idea flare to life on her face. “Lord Thane, I know we only met yesterday, but it would be  _ really  _ helpful if you could dance with me.”

“Um—”

“Thank you  _ so  _ much.”)

_ Jester come away from him,  _ Caleb says again, and she shakes her head with a light laugh.

At Essek's look, she says, "Just remembered a joke. Do you like them?"

"Do I like... Jokes?" He looks confused and for a moment she is nearly regretful to be doing this, playing him like a stranger. But she can't... She can't treat him as a friend now, not any longer. Maybe never again.

The song ends and they come to a stop at the perfect distance apart, like something out of a textbook.

"Thank you for the dance," she says, hoping that none of her sadness shows in her voice, hoping that he hears the tremble as exhaustion and not anger.

"Of course," he says, looking shaken.

As she begins walking away he raises his voice slightly, calls, "Jester—"

She turns to look back.

"I do like them. Jokes, I mean." His illusory face pulls into the little smile she knows from her dinner table, a little sheepish, a little awkward around the edges.

"I do too," she tells him. What she doesn’t say is,  _ Goodbye.  _ She doesn’t know if she has to, just yet.

\---

She sees it just after Fjord breaks into laughter with the group of shipwrights and sailors in the corner, drawing her gaze from across the crowded room. Caleb is in conversation with the Martinet, a tension Jester recognizes coiling in his shoulders. 

He will stutter, if the conversation continues on long enough. Whatever razor he is balancing on, he will slip. She recognizes this and refuses to let him stumble while Ludinus Da’leth is watching. Caleb wants something from the Cerberus Assembly, she is certain of it, even if he may not know what exactly he is looking for from them. 

So Jester crosses the room, deftly weaving through the people that ring the dancers and ignoring the faint alarm in Fjord’s voice when she passes his group. This next part is not from the plan. Neither, of course, was her dance with Essek—but to be fair, ‘mingle and don’t draw attention’ is a plan that is  _ very  _ easy to deviate from.

Jester, bold as anything, strides up to the conversation and pretends not to see the haunted look in Caleb’s eyes. She turns instead to the Martinet, who regards her with no small amount of wariness, and offers a slight curtsy. He gives her a nod.

“The next song is going to be Zemmnian,” she says easily, like she can’t feel the tension radiating off of Caleb in waves. “Will you dance with me, Martinet?”

Jester can see the moment Caleb goes from ‘uncomfortable but managing’ to ‘creeping sense of panic’ in her peripheral vision, but she keeps her attention fixed on her target.

_ Chaos,  _ the Traveler sighs in her ear, but she doesn’t acknowledge him either. She needs—she needs to see things from a new angle, a new environment, she needs to  _ know.  _ It’s not just about getting Caleb out of this conversation, it’s about learning the Cerberus Assembly, which seems more and more like a collection of enemies with each passing day. It’s about learning the Martinet, who finds her so off-putting, and learning who he is outside of his own country. 

He blinks, once, and looks at her with something calculating in his expression. She keeps her expression exactly as it is, holding for one moment and then another, until he nods. Then they both turn, her slipping her hand into his offered arm, and move toward the dance floor. 

It is entirely different from dancing with Essek. The dance itself is not the same; it’s more structured, more rigid, and involves more of the other dancers. At times they draw together in lines, at times they spiral off away from each other. It is not a dance that inspires conversation among the participants.

The partner, too, is different. Where Essek was uncomfortable, nervous to be near her, the Martinet is evaluating her every step. If he’s attempting to hide it he’s doing a terrible job, so he must not be trying. She can’t tell if he likes to dance, even, though he’s clearly proficient enough. It’s a strange dance, honestly, because it’s meant to call back to a story of a girl being hunted by a wolf, the low beat of the drum under each measure representing the implacable predator and the high, sighing violin for the unwary prey.

Jester does not feel like prey, though, and she’s pretty sure Ludinus hasn’t felt hunted in years. They are, instead, both watching each other, both assessing. They are, in a sense, both wolves.

The dance ends with not a word passed between them, her sinking into a curtsy again and him bowing. When they both rise and turn to applaud the musicians, she tilts her head in his direction and says, “I  _ do  _ hope you’re bringing pastries to the negotiations. I know we talked about refreshments before.”

When they part at the edge of the dancefloor, she doesn’t see Caleb anywhere in the crowd. The Martinet says something about returning to his compatriots, something about how surprised Uludan looked to see him dancing. Fjord, in his corner, flicks a hand in the direction of the grand staircase at the north end of the room when he sees her looking around.

_ Good,  _ she thinks, before catching a glimpse of two shadows on the southern balcony.

\---

Beau runs a hand through her hair and stares off the balcony, towards the quay. "I don't know if it's a compromise I can make. I don't know if it's for us to forgive, the reports from the Ashguard Garrison alone, _ hundreds  _ dead, gods."

"I am also conflicted," Yasha says, as gently as she ever says anything. "It is... uncomfortable, to think you have been taken in by the cause of a war when you have really been caught up in the effect of it."

“And what about in the Rexxentrum attack? What about that first time, with the tower?” Beau breaks off, tilts her head to the side with a distant look in her eyes.

Yasha looks up at Jester’s approach, framed by the light from within the party and the flowers so carefully manicured around the balcony doors. Her breath catches for a moment, when Jester smiles. Beau, too, turns at Jester's approach, taps the side of her head twice. A little code worked out one night when they couldn't sleep, back in their first days as roommates. One tap for Nott, two for Caleb.

"He's on the northern terrace, copy that," she says, and Yasha sighs.

For a moment, Jester just looks at the two of them.  _ Beautiful,  _ she thinks, and back in the murmur of the crowd she thinks she catches the teasing edge of the Traveler’s laugh.

It’s just... Jester is out here to check in. Jester is out here to report on her dances, and to catch her breath and to stay out of Lord Sharpe’s way. 

They look  _ really  _ beautiful, the cobalt ascot tucked against her neck, the wide expanse of shoulders that the gown exposes. Beau and Yasha look beautiful together and Jester feels satisfaction stir in her gut, that she chose these colors and fabrics, that she was right in every moment of decision. That is what brings the heat of a blush to her cheeks. Probably.

“What are you talking about out here?” Jester asks softly, a hint of teasing in her voice, like she can force this into being just a party. 

Beau looks conflicted for a moment. 

“The war,” Yasha says bluntly, and Jester nods sadly.

Beau is breathing a little fast, Jester notices, and there—her fists are clenched.

“We’re ending the war,” she tries, but even as she says it she knows it was the wrong thing.

Beau explodes into movement, pacing from side to side with a barely restrained energy. Yasha shifts in response, moving in case she needs to intercept a fast-moving monk.  _ If we were anywhere else,  _ Jester thinks,  _ we’d start shouting now. _

“The war didn’t even  _ matter!”  _ Beau seethes, enough venom in her voice to make anyone but the two on the balcony with her flinch. “Four people, if it was really just four people, got in a room together and said  _ ‘hey, what do we get out of this’  _ and didn’t think about any  _ consequences,  _ and then their respective countries went to  _ war,  _ and for  _ what.  _ For  _ who.” _

Jester looks at Yasha, a little lost, and Yasha shrugs in response. 

Beau continues in this awful, low hiss of a voice, “A whole bunch of people are dead. The fucking—the fucking  _ Chained Oblivion  _ took the opportunity to try to get loose. And every single person, every  _ single  _ person who was hurt by this war, we know who’s responsible! Ta-da, expositing done, corruption fucking  _ found.”  _ She stops pacing, turns again to look in the direction of the water. “Dairon would be proud,” she says bitterly. “Look for one mole and we find at least four.”

“We knew the Assembly was bad already,” Jester says carefully. There’s something so unnerving about seeing Beau like this, something terrible about seeing her thrown off so badly. “It hurts, though,” she continues, “because Essek is our friend.”

“Is he, though? Was he ever?” Yasha asks.

“We’re asking the wrong questions,” Beau says. “We’re asking ‘did Essek use us?’ and ‘is Essek still our friend?’ These are the wrong questions.”

“Then what are the right ones,” Yasha sighs, moving to once again be next to Beau, looking out. Jester watches their backs, takes in the way they’re framed by the light from the party, the warmth in her face long gone cold again.

Inside, the music swells, the song coming to an end.

“Does it matter, if he’s our friend or not, does it matter for what we do next?” Beau sounds... lost. Yasha sets a hand on her shoulder, grounding, and she slumps a little.

They spend a moment in silence, the three of them breathing. It’s a warm night.

"Want to dance?" Jester whispers, and Beau looks back toward the crowded ballroom with a slight frown. There's a wrinkle between her eyebrows, the one she gets when she's worried.

She opens her mouth and Jester  _ knows _ it is to agree, despite her discomfort, so instead Jester walks to her side and takes one of her hands right there on the balcony. It’s cool from the stone railing, and she traces her fingers for a moment against the crescents on the heel of her palm where Beau's nails have been pressing all evening.

At that moment the band segues into a livelier song, one with several different orders of steps. Jester knows it because Jester knows all of these dances, because her mother taught her and the Traveler could be convinced to dance a time or twice after a successful prank.

Well, she knows it but she’s never—it’s a different dance, this one. It’s meant for three people.

“Yasha,” she says, a half-note of pleading in her voice, extending her other hand. “We need another person for this one.”

Yasha looks like she’d rather be on the battlefield, even here in the shadows of the evening, but she nods and steps up gamely.

Uncertain, stumbling, the three of them begin to mangle the dance together. It’s worth a few bruised toes, though, for Beau to look a little less defeated, for Yasha to give the smallest smile.

**Author's Note:**

> i really really like the canon party that we got but i will admit that as soon as matt said there would be a party my brain went right to dancing??? dancing??? big ballroom with music and dancing??? so i wrote a little something about it. (was not meant to be shippy but listen, listen, listen,,, ot3 agenda jumped out)   
> in this house we hate the cerberus assembly and have complicated feelings about essek and also love and respect jester lavorre so much thank you laura bailey for the gift of this character  
> title is from The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing, written by Irving Berlin; you might know it from the movie White Christmas. It’s a great dance scene, and as soon as laura said jester was wearing a pink dress my brain would not let it go  
> leave a comment and let me know what you think :) it's been a while since i wrote any critrole but i hope this was good!


End file.
